


No Reason for Silence

by midautumnnightdream



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Convent Husbands, Fake Marriage, Humor With Feelings, Les Mis Rarepair Week 2017, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, again sorta, sorta - Freeform, what even is time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 04:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15405315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midautumnnightdream/pseuds/midautumnnightdream
Summary: “What I mean,” Fauchelevent explained calmly “is that I told everyone we are married.”Ex-convict, ex-mayor and current fugitive Jean Valjean is in a need of an adoption certificate, a new name and a new home, in that order. Fauchelevent has a rather elegant solution, if he might be permitted to say so himself.(Originally posted on tumblr for Les Mis rarepairs week 2017)





	No Reason for Silence

Jean Valjean blinked several times, opened his mouth and closed it again, feeling quite at loss. He frowned and tried again.

“While there are certain merits to your, uh, proposal…” he trailed off, realising the choice of words was perhaps not the most tactful. Nonetheless, Fauchelevent continued to beam at him, an expression far too cheerful and innocent to be completely genuine. “Surely you realise the matter is not quite so simple.”

“Matters of heart rarely are,” Fauchelevent agreed with a solemn nod that did nothing to conceal his satisfaction with what he clearly considered to be a stroke of remarkable genius. “The plan is quite clever, if I can say so myself. The prioress… well she is an old school girl, but in her own way. Very well versed in such chapters of ecclesiastical history that the church officials would rather forget. She is sympathetic, and willing to jump through some hoops if necessary.”

“Nevertheless.” Jean Valjean bit back a sigh of frustration. It would be the height of ingratitude to snap at Fauchelevent, and useless besides. “You cannot just _say_ that we are married. There must be paperwork. Licences. Certificates. Administrative records.” He run his hand through his hair for what must have been fifth time in last twenty minutes. More than that, if Fauchelevent’s amused expression was anything to go by. He made a half-hearted effort to tame the disrupted curls, before giving it up as a bad job. “I’ll still need some form of identification, even if – _particularly if_ I’m to have your name. And a proof of marriage is not enough to guarantee adoption, even with the prioress’s help…”

“I expect your experiences in navigating the bureaucratic machinery will help you out there, _M_ _onsieur le_ _M_ _aire,_ ” Fauchelevent shot back. “And I have dabbled in law myself, back in the day. As for the matter of holy matrimony, why, I’m several steps ahead of you. There is this fellow I know; a drunkard by day and a gravedigger by night, but sometimes he surfaces enough to recall that he has a permit to officiate weddings. It will be a simple matter to keep him distracted for long enough to, ahh, amend the documentation to fit our needs.” He made an expansive gesture that no doubt was meant to convey a complicated and well thought-out plan for clandestine document forgery.

“I see,” said Jean Valjean, who didn’t really see. Yet, there was something oddly encouraging in the mixture of caution, flippancy and dark humour Fauchelevent was expressing in regards to their current conundrum. Mad as the plan was, he had clearly given it more thought than Jean Valjean had initially assumed, and there was nothing disingenuous in his desire to help. Perhaps he should have felt guilty over the lengths the other was willing to go, but all that Jean Valjean could find within himself was gratitude, and a spark of warmth that was still new to him, and usually reserved for Cosette alone.

“Are you quite sure you wish to do this?” he asked quietly, forcing himself to meet Fauchelevent’s eyes. “This is not just a matter of filling in the paperwork. The risks alone are more than I should ask of anyone, but even if everything goes according to the plan, it won’t end there. We are choosing roles for ourselves, and will have to keep acting the part, for years if necessary, to keep this little girl safe and happy. Is this something you are willing to accept?”

For the first time since he had witnessed his erstwhile mayor scaling down the convent wall, Fauchelevent looked truly taken aback. An odd mixture of emotions flickered across his face, too quickly for Jean Valjean to follow or make sense of. Then he laughed.

“Monsieur Madeleine,” he grinned. “It’s not every day that a genuine saint falls from the heavens to my humble feet. I’m an old man, I’ve got to seize the chances I’m offered – and you have arrived just in time for the planting season, fancy that. Now,” he grew pensive once again. “The real question is, how are we going to get you out of here?”


End file.
